#sam angst

[scribeofwinchesters]

Secrets and Lies: Chapter 11 - Rope

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 4,660

Summary: “You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming."

Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con

Previous chapters: 

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten

A/N: Definitely recommend catching up or re-reading before this chapter since we have some callbacks to chapter 1 here. Thank you all for showing me so much support after being gone for so long <3 This might be my personal favorite chapter yet :) Most of it's been written for years but had lots of rewrites and edits as I worked through it and came back to it again and again during my hiatus, so if there's anything that doesn't connect or track, please DM me so I can fix it! I've reread it like eight times, though, so I think we're good... I hope you all like it and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are very welcome <3 as always, link to AO3 if you prefer.

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa

You yanked hard on the door and sure enough, the door drug across the jamb and you had to give it a second hard pull to get it fully open. As soon as it was free Dean was right there, gun pointed ahead of him as he let his eyes adjust before quickly clearing the area to the left and the right. Just as planned you were directly behind him, gripping your gun but keeping it pointed safely toward the ground. 

The interior was completely dark except for rows and columns of sporadically blinking green and orange lights to the left. As Dean stepped in, you followed, remaining so close to him that you could literally feel your breath warming his neck. Dean should’ve known better than to exaggerate when telling you to do something that you didn’t want to do. He took another careful step inside and reached along the wall for a light switch. 

As he did, there was suddenly a soft tumble of footsteps and Dean deftly reached behind him to grip your arm and pull you along with him as he ducked to the right, pressing you safely between him and the wall. 

The shadowy form of a person was visible somewhere ahead of Dean, outlined by the blinking lights. It was wielding some kind of weapon that you couldn't make out in the darkness until it glinted in the light and you could see the flash of a long, sharp point. The figure darted into the darkness and from somewhere across the room you heard a deep, stifled scream. 

Dean gripped his gun with both hands and aimed it at each corner of the room, hoping to catch sight of some kind of movement. 

You shifted your handgun to one hand and silently pulled your silver blade from its holster and gripped it tightly. You scrapped it along the wall, using it’s extra length to find your mark. After a short moment it caught on the switch and the room was flooded with a dull, fluorescent haze; the bulbs flickered and buzzed faintly before steadying on. 

Momentarily blinded by the sudden light, you narrowed your eyes and squinted as they adjusted.

You peeked around Dean as you sheathed your blade. Your stomach dropped. 

There, in the middle of the room, was Sam. He was tied up in a chair, ropes tight around his wrists and ankles and mouth. He’d been stripped down to nothing but his boxers and socks and there was blood splattered on the ground beneath him. Sam had a black eye and a horrific mixture of blood and sweat dripped from his forehead. He had a handful of cuts and gashes across his chest. He caught sight of you and your eyes locked together. The marble pinged against your insides again as you saw Sam’s bloodshot eyes glisten with tears. Your heart caught in your throat and you could feel yourself forgetting to breathe. 

Sam glanced to his left, drawing your eyes away from him.

You froze. 

Standing in the dark corner, just a few steps away from Sam, was the last thing you expected to see...

It was...

you? 

Not current you... but clean, moisturized, fresh-faced, hair-brushed-and-styled-with-the-perfect-flounce-you-could-never-quite-achieve-despite-many-frustrating-hours-spent-fussing-over-it… you.

It was fully dressed in clothes that looked like something you’d wear if you had time to put thought into your outfits, and to top it off, she was wearing Sam’s wellworn green jacket and a blue flannel and something about that made your stomach churn. It held a long, jagged blade comfortably in it’s outstretched arm as it grinned and you pulled yourself back behind Dean as you tried to catch your breath. 

“ ‘Bout time you guys joined the party,” it said cheerfully and took a careful step toward Sam. It was bizarre hearing your voice come from another person… thing… it. 

“That’s close enough,” Dean warned as he pointed his gun at the shifter. 

“Oh, Dean,” it said as it suddenly dropped and rolled skillfully behind Sam. Dean fired his gun at the movement but missed the target, leaving a small smoking circle in the machinery. You jerked at the sudden sound and took a moment before taking in a deep, stabalizing breath. 

“Come on, after the last few days, Dean, stuck at home with… me,” it smirked as it slowly crouched over Sam and held the jagged blade to Sam’s throat.  “The sad, pathetic thing you rescued from purgatory,” she mocked with an exaggerated pout. “Listening to her whining, holding her as she cried, falling asleep on the couch as you held her… we both know you were dying to put a bullet in both of your heads just to get the pathetic misery to end.” 

You studied the back of Dean’s head, imagining the furious expression flashing across his face.

The shifter pulled the edge of  it’s blade through Sam’s sweat-slicked hair, causing the tip to graze against his check and scalp, just light enough to not break the skin. Sam flinched reflexivly and squeezed his eyes shut. The shifter sneered at Dean for a moment before catching your eyes as you peaked over Dean’s shoulder. 

It smiled and narrowed its eyes at you as it licked it’s tongue across it’s teeth. “Looking a little rough there, sister. My brother got a few good hits in at least. Tell me, how far did he get before you noticed? One finger? Two? Balls deep?” It laughed. 

“Stop it,” Dean seethed. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” the shifter sneered as it pressed the blade ever so slightly against Sam’s throat, drawing beads of blood to the surface. Sam winced and you felt the rage building inside of you. It took every ounce of control you had to stay put. 

You locked eyes with Sam as tears spilled from his wide, horror-filled eyes. The throbbing ache in your cheek was a painful reminder of earlier that night and you watched as his eyes drifted over it. 

The shifter crouched down again and licked Sam’s ear while looking at you. “Am I doing it right?” it asked before brushing your… its fingers through Sam’s hair and jostling his head around simply for the sake of reminding you who was in charge. 

“That’s what you asked the first time you put Sammy’s cock in your mouth, isn’t it?” it drawled right into his ear, its eyes still locked on you. 

Your heart raced, and you squeezed your eyes shut as the throbbing ache in your cheek worsened from your rapid pulse. You rested a palm against Dean’s shoulder to steady yourself as you felt yourself losing balance. All you could think about was rage. But for Sam’s sake you couldn’t let its taunts get the better of you. That was easier said than done. 

“You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming,” Dean bellowed as he stepped fully in front of you, blocking you completely from the shifters view and sadly, from Sam. “Your brother went quick. Couple silver bullets and he was down. When I’m done with you you’ll be begging for a bullet, do you hear me?” 

You heard a brief squelching sound and something heavy and wet spilled to the ground.

“I needed to catch up,” Sam sneered. 

But it wasn’t Sam. It was the shifter, transformed now, into Sam.

“Mmmm, that’s some sweet, sweet pain and guilt, Sammy,” the shifter hummed. “Delicious..."

It pressed the knife further into Sam’s neck. Sam grimaced as the blood dribbled down his neck. All you could hear was Sam grunting in pain. 

“Your gun,” it said.

Dean dropped the gun, letting it swing from his pointer finger as he spread his arms.

“Cut the crap. What do you want?” Dean asked.

“I told him not to go after you Winchester’s,” it spat. “But he insisted.”

“Refresh my memory, would ya? What did we do to you anyway? We haven’t hunted a shifter in years.” 

You could hear Sam breathing rapidly as he tried and failed to catch his breath. 

“Charisse.” 

Dean hesitated. “Who the fuck is Charisse,” he asked under his breath. 

“The witch… from the other day… my last hunt with Sam,” you whispered. 

Dean gave you a small nod without breaking eye contact with the shifter. 

“Since when do shifters and witches work together?” Dean asked. 

“Please, Dean… we both know you don’t care,” the shifter replied. 

Dean shrugged again. “Eh… normally you’d be right, I don’t really care what you monsters get up to when you’re not hurting people. But a witch and shifters working together? Well, that’s not something I’ve ever seen before.” 

“Charisse was like a mother to us,” the shifter said as he stood, still holding the blade to Sam’s throat. “She fed us and took care of us and gave us advice about moving through the world as monsters that people like us never get. And in return we helped her… well, pay the bills…,” 

“So you were thieves,” Dean said. 

You silently crouched and glanced around Dean, desperate for a view. You caught sight of the shifter standing above Sam. The grip on its blade had loosened as it spoke. The top of Sam’s head reached just beneath the neck of the shifter but in Sam’s frame, with his broad shoulders, there was a clear shot; a small shot, but a clear one. 

As you stood, hidden behind Dean, and his open jacket which added several inches to his frame, you took advantage of the cover to check that the safety on your gun was released. 

“Don’t move,” you whispered so that only Dean could hear you. 

“So mommy dearest bites the big one and your brother decides to get revenge,,” Dean vamped to keep the shifter distracted. “You both came to this town and got up to no good in order to draw out Sam. But brother got dead and now it all rests on your shoulders. Did I miss anything?” Dean asked, taunting the shifter. 

As he spoke you slowly, carefully and silently turned so that your back was to Dean’s and aimed your gun forward, ignoring the throbbing in your cheek. You were going to have to move quickly or the shifter would get the drop and… and… well, that didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to happen. Your took a deep, steadying breath. 

As the shifter began to reply you swiftly and carefully spun around on one foot, ready to aim your gun at the shifter’s head.

It looked and sounded every bit like Sam and if it weren’t for the fact that he was sitting right there that may have given you pause. You aimed and without a whisper of hesitation, fired off a single silver round into its head. It dropped the blade, sending it cascading across Sam’s front before clattering to the ground. The shifter stumbled backwards and Dean made a break for it, crossing the room in several long strides as you dropped your gun and sprinted to Sam.

Dean pinned the shifter down with his knee digging into its back as he pulled its arms behind its back and bound them tightly at the wrists. It was unnecessary, though, it was as dead as the one you’d left at the bunker.

“Nice shot,” Dean said as he examined the thing. For the second time in just a few hours Dean had to deal with the lifeless and bloodied body of his brother.

You stood over Sam and leaned over him, your fingers trembled with adrenaline as you fumbled with the knot on the rope between Sam’s lips.

“Y/n,” Sam whispered between his panicked breaths the second his mouth was free. You crouched down in front of him as you deftly cut the ropes off his wrists and ankles, hardly pulling your eyes away from his for more than half a second.

You looked him over as he stood carefully. In addition to the blackeye he was bruised on his thighs and abdomen and there were deep, red rashes around his wrists and ankles. Sam’s eyes hung on you but he wasn’t looking into your eyes. He was examining you, studying whatever it was that Dean saw in the car earlier that made him wince. 

Without even thinking, you found yourself pulling your silver blade from your boot. “I’m… I’m sorry,” you said. “But I have to.” 

He nodded and pulled his hand into a fist as he held his arm out. Sam watched your eyes as you swiped the blade across his arm, drawing out a thin trail of blood. He winced and inhaled sharply, all the while never peeling his eyes away from you. 

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It was Sam. It was really Sam. You dropped your blade to the ground with a clatter.

While you wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms and wrap yourself around him, to cling to him, you were still unsure of everything. You stopped short of a hug and instead stood there like an idiot, frozen, as you stared up at him. You had to remind yourself to breathe, again. He stared down at you, holding your gaze now, before briefly glancing to the side of your face and back. 

Dean picked up your gun and blade before giving the room a quick once-over. The electronic components, flashing green and orange, were kept to one side, opposite of the desk.

Sam caught your eyes lingering on the pile of rope and the blood spatters around the chair and pulled you to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and inhaled deeply as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “I’m okay,” he whispered. 

You felt your insides return as he held you. Your heart and lungs and thoughts all fell back into place, stopping the pinging marble in its tracks as the walls crumbled. The marble, with one last ping, lodged into your heart. You were whole again… mostly.

“God, Sam,” you said, fighting back your sobs. “I… I-” 

He brushed his hands over your hair and tenderly shushed you. “I’m here,” he said softly.

“Is it dead?” Sam asked Dean, his tone hard as he continued stroking his palms carefully over you. You caught Dean giving Sam a small, silent nod as you pulled away, ready to not spend another second in this place. Dean handed you your gun and knife which you quickly put away.

Dean stood to the side of the door, ushering you and Sam out before flipping the light switch and pushing the door shut behind him. 

 Dean lead you all back to the Impala, his eyes scanned the area like clockwork as you all made a beeline for the car. You climbed into the front seat, the safety of the Impala enveloping you as you finally relaxed and your shoulders dropped. Dean quickly looked around as Sam climbed in the back. Dean started up the engine, it’s gentle rumble surely waking at least one person in the nearby houses. 

In less than fifteen minutes Dean had you all back at the motel. 

“We’re not going back to the bunker?” Sam asked. 

Dean shook his head and glanced at Sam in the rearview mirror. “We need Cass to check the warding. It’s not safe.” 

Sam looked at you and then back at Dean. “The… the bunker?” 

Sam shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to know more but the hesitation from you and Dean to say more made him scared to ask. He slowly opened his eyes and his gaze fell upon you and you could see in the rearview mirror the tears glistening in his eyes again. You had never seen him look so vulnerable: half-naked, no weapon, fighting back tears. You wanted to kill the shifter all over again. You bit at the inside of your lip, worried that it might start to dawn on him what had happened. It’s not that you didn’t want him to know. You just weren’t ready to deal with it. And as long as Sam didn’t know, you could almost pretend that it hadn’t happened. Almost.

Dean nodded curtly as he cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he stared distantly ahead. 

“Stay here,” he said to Sam as you climbed out of the car, too. You raised an eyebrow to Dean. “I’ll be right back,” he added to Sam.

Dean, ever the over-protector, was now made even worse. He followed you to the door and once again, checked the entire place over. 

“Dean,” you sighed. 

“Not up for debate,” he said, repeating himself from earlier, his eyes still studying every inch of the room as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m not saying you can’t be protective but you’re not my security guard. There isn’t a monster in every closet,” you said. 

 His nostrils flared as he stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, before turning back to you. “What happened… tonight,” he inhaled deeply, “...will never happen again. I won’t let it,” he finished as he swallowed hard. “Not even for a single second will I let you go through something even remotely close to that ever again.” 

You stood there in the middle of the room, too shattered and exhausted to argue with him. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid that night all that time ago when Cass manipulated Sam’s memory. 

“What are you gonna tell him?” you asked as you choked back your emotions. 

“Enough to catch him up,” Dean said as he turned away and headed back to the Impala.

He left the motel door open and climbed back into the Impala. Sam watched you from the backseat. You locked eyes for a brief second as Dean twisted to face Sam and rested his arm on the backseat. 

You stepped away from his line of sight, not prepared to handle what Sam’s reaction might be. As they talked, you kicked off your boots and jeans and slipped out of your flannel before climbing into the already unmade bed, leaving the fresh bed for Dean. You left half the bed for Sam, though you weren’t sure if he’d take it. Sure, he’d been emotional and comforted you, that still didn’t mean he’d forgiven you. 

You cozied up under the blankets and shut your eyes, desperate to fall asleep, though you weren’t sure what you’d find when you got there. More importantly, however, if you were asleep then you didn’t have to talk with Sam. You inhaled deeply as you nestled your face into the pillow. It smelled faintly like Sam and the longing for him slowly began building back up inside of you. You felt a single tear slip down, leaving a wet circle on the fabric. 

Dean’s booted stomps sounded as he crossed the threshold, followed by Sam’s silent, shoeless scuffles. You half wondered if he’d brought any other shoes with him but that was a problem for tomorrow. One of them flipped the lights off. Sam paused at the edge of the bed for a moment and you could hear him quietly breathing as he watched you. A beat passed before he continued to the bathroom and shut the door. Dean pulled the string on his bedside lamp, providing him with enough light so that he could walk about the room but not disturb you. Seconds later you heard the pipes squeak and water rushing as Sam turned on the shower. 

You carefully opened one eye just a sliver and watched as Dean grabbed the ice bucket from the dinette table and left, this time pulling the door quietly shut behind him. He returned moments later. You listened as the locks clicked and Dean slid the chain lock into place. He sat in the dinette chair and peeled open one of the empty plastic bucket liners. He scooped ice into it and tied a knot at the top, sealing it closed. The chair quietly scraped across the floor as he stood up and pushed it back. You could feel his presence looming over you, blocking out the light of his lamp on the other side of the room.

“I know you’re not asleep,” he whispered. 

You huffed and gently bit at your lip before opening your eyes. “What gave me away?” 

“Scooch,” he said. You turned carefully and painfully onto your back and pushed yourself back just enough for him to sit beside you on the bed.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain of the near suffocation you'd endured back at the bunker was beginning to set in. Your chest ached deep down to the bottom of your lungs and you kept your breath short to avoid the sharp, stabbing pain that came when you inhaled too deeply.

Dean lifted the ice bag and slowly pressed the bag against the right side of your face, eliciting a hiss from you as it stung your tender skin. You reached up and placed your hand over Dean’s who pulled his away, letting you take over. You held it there as he watched you. 

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit,” he said as he stood back up.

“What for?” you asked. 

“Um, your face,” Dean said as he wrinkled his brows.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as he squatted down to pull it from one of the side pockets of his bag. 

“You haven’t looked?” he asked as he made his way back over to you and sat down. You shook your head slightly, the ice clinking along to each movement. He studied your expression before nodding. He kicked his boots off and leaned over. You let your hand fall as he pulled the ice bag back. 

“Can’t see,” he muttered as he reached over and pulled the string of your bedside lamp, illuminating your side of the room. He straightened up and zipped open the first aid kit to pull several items out. 

You glanced down and watched as Dean fussed over his tools. A little bottle of clear liquid caught your eye and inexplicably made your stomach drop.

“Not rubbing alcohol, Dean… please,” you said quietly, shocked at yourself as tears stung the corner of your eyes. You just couldn’t… hurt, anymore. Not tonight. You’d had enough.

“Don’t be a baby,” he said before catching your pained expression. “Sorry,” he whispered quickly. “It’s not alcohol,” he said, shaking the little bottle. “It’s like antiseptic or something.” He shrugged. 

You took a deep breath and looked away. Dean took that as his sign to continue. “Can you sit up a little?” he asked. 

You pushed yourself up and jutted your head forward. He held the washcloth beneath the cut. 

“Look up,” he said. You did as he asked. He squeezed the bottle’s liquid across your cheek, into your cut, cleansing it. The washcloth caught most of the runoff, but some did escape and run down your neck, slicking it. He pulled the washcloth away and refolded it to get to a dry edge and dabbed it gently along your check. You stared at a random spot on the wall as he worked. He returned the bottle to the pouch and pulled out an ointment tube which he squeezed onto a cotton swab and swiped it across your cut as gently as he could manage. 

“This is deep, y/n. I’m gonna have to stitch it in the morning,” he said as he pulled the wound tightly shut with two butterfly bandages. You grimaced at the thought.  

“Done,” he said with a gentle smile as he returned everything to the kit and zipped it up. 

The roar of the shower cut off and there was the familiar scrape of the shower hooks across the curtain rod as Sam exited the shower.

“Thanks,” you wheezed as you looked down and fiddled with your fingers. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Can I… do you need anything?” 

You shrugged as you locked eyes with him. “Water, I guess? And every breath hurts from when... And sleep, but… I’m also, I mean, I’m a little afraid… to sleep. Don’t know what I’ll…,” you trailed off. 

Dean glanced away and seemed to think for a moment. He left your side only to quickly return with the stainless steel water jug and a plastic cup from the motel. He filled it with water and handed it to you. As you sipped the water he returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a small plastic bag with two large white pills in it. Dean handed them to you and you let them roll over in your palm as you tried to guess what they were. 

“They’ll conk you out,” he explained. “And Sam and I will be right here the entire time. You don’t have to worry,” he assured you. 

“I never worry about that,” you said, giving him a lopsided smile. 

He frowned and took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him not to do that, that he had done everything he could and what happened wasn’t his fault, but you just didn’t have the energy. You swallowed the pills and finished the water. Dean refilled the cup and set it on the bedside table. You shifted onto your side, your injured cheek faced up, and got comfortable under the covers as Dean turned the lamp back off. He picked up the bag of ice and placed it gently back over your cheek. 

You were just beginning to drift off when you heard the bathroom door open followed by the quiet footsteps of Sam making his way to his bag to rummage for clean clothes. He returned moments later and climbed into bed beside you. It was quiet for a moment but you could feel his presence as he leaned over you, examining your face in the pale light.

“Did I miss anything?” he whispered to Dean.

“Just bandaged her up a little,” Dean whispered from his bed. “And gave her the good stuff to help her sleep.” 

“Maybe I should go to a pharmacy and get some real ice packs,” Sam thought aloud. 

“It’s four in the morning. There’s nothing open for over a hundred miles,” Dean reminded him. 

“I’m sure I could break into a doctor's office or something in this Podunk town,” Sam said. The bed creaked as he leaned back against his pillow. 

“Okay, simmer down, John Dillinger,” Dean teased. “It wouldn’t make enough of a difference to be worth it. Gonna have to stitch it up in the morning regardless. What about you? You good?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "Nothing deeper than surface level."

You wanted to move, to curve to Sam, or ask him to hold you, but the drugs Dean gave you were strong and were quickly taking over every muscle in your body, including your tongue and lips, and thankfully your aching lungs.

“Get some sleep, Sammy,” Dean whispered. Dean’s bed creaked and you slipped your eyes open a crack to see him turning onto his side, squeezing his pillow against his face. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his jeans and flannel. You couldn’t see it but knowing Dean the hand under his pillow was resting over his Colt. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. 

Sam leaned over in the darkness and pressed his lips gently to your temple. You sighed as you fought tooth and nail against the drugs for more seconds with Sam, scared that in the morning, or when you were better, Sam would be gone again. Your body was so heavy you felt like you were going to sink into the mattress.

He pushed toward you, pressing his body carefully against yours and found your hand. He grasped it in his and with everything you had left, before giving into the heaviness and slipping under, you squeezed it, desperate to let him know you were there and aware and so grateful for every moment with him. He laced his fingers with yours and pulled your hand along with his to your heart, wrapping you in him like you were a gift and he was the bow. 

The message had been received. 

EDIT: Chapter 12

#supernatural fan fiction #reader insert #sam winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #spn fanfic #sam x you #sam winchester/reader #sam/you #sam x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester/you #sam winchester #sam angst #angst #supernatural fandom #supernatural family #supernatural imagine #spnfamily #scribeofwinchesters

[angelssun]

supernatural is just a story about sam winchester and his relation with suffering, and everyone else is just background characters to it, either canon folder for his pain or beings that cause it

#ramblings #sam winchester #sam #spn #sam angst #dean is both the biggest cause of his pain and his biggest torturer

[spnexploration]

Bad timing

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, reader

Summary: Set in season 5, what happens when Dean and Sam are trying to avoid angels and demons at every turn, but then Sam's girlfriend falls pregnant?

Tags: Sam angst, pregnancy, protective Winchesters, maybe a bit of hurt/comfort

Warnings: small amount of swearing, canon-typical violence. No smut.

Word count: 2.5k

Now with a Part 2!

I’d met Sam and Dean through Ellen and Jo, done a few hunts with them. Flirted a lot with Sam, before finally progressing to hooking up with him. Every so often, maybe weeks apart, sometimes months, our paths would cross and we'd fall into each other's arms again.

I knew Sam and Dean were having issues with angels and demons after them, but I didn't know the specifics. They were pretty cagey about the topic, and I didn't press it.

I’d taken a couple of days off hunting, as I never felt at the top of my game when my period arrived. Too many cramps, always hitting at the worst moment. So I’d get a hotel room and veg for a couple of days.

But it didn't arrive.

Ok, sometimes these things are a couple of days late. I did some research on cases, expecting it to arrive any hour, any day now.

Nada. Nothing.

I started to panic when it was now more than a little late. I reluctantly made my way to the local pharmacy, face feeling hot as I paid for a box of pregnancy tests and headed back to the motel.

Then the impossible two-minute wait after I peed on the stick.

Two lines.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I held my phone in my hand, Sam’s contact on the screen. I nearly clicked dial a dozen times, but didn't.

Eventually, I sent him a text.

📱Hey Sam. Need to chat. Urgently. Where are you?

He rang instantly, concern in his voice. I told him it was something I had to say in person, couldn't be done on the phone. I was pretty sure he thought it was information about the demons, and I didn't dissuade him of that assumption. We teed up a town to meet in, tomorrow.

I got in the car and drove.

---

“Hey, kid,” Dean said, walking into my hotel room. I was a year younger than Sam, hardly a kid.

Sam followed behind him, walking past Dean to give me a hug. I turned away from his kiss, terrified of telling him. “What's wrong?” Sam said, concern painted all over his face.

“Uh, can we chat alone?” I asked Sam quietly.

“That's my cue to leave, I see,” Dean said, standing up. “I'll be outside.” He left.

I turned to Sam, embarrassed and unable to meet his eye.

“What is it?” he asked gently, his hands on my arms.

“I'm- I'm pregnant,” I said cautiously. “Surprise!” I added half-sarcastically.

He pulled me into a hug, tucking my head under his chin. I started to cry against his chest.

“Hey, hey, it's ok,” he said, rubbing my back.

I calmed down and pulled back, meeting his eyes. He didn't seem upset, which I’d been worried about.

“Have you thought what you want to do?” he asked, a little hesitantly.

“Do you want me to get rid of it?” I asked him.

He paused for a second, clearly considering. “No,” he said earnestly, looking into my eyes deeply. “But if you do, I'll support you.”

I grabbed him and hugged him again. “I don't know what I want, but I don't think I want that. Oh, I don't know!” I cried to him.

“We don't have to make a decision now,” he reassured me.

I calmed down again, and pulled away from the hug again. Sam sat on the bed and pulled me to sit on his lap.

“We have to tell Dean,” Sam said, studying my face for my reaction.

“Already?”

“I'm sorry, but yes,” he replied. “Dean and I have a lot going on, angels and demons and every other thing after us. He needs to know.” I nodded and he phoned Dean, telling him to come back up.

“Do you want to say or will I?” Sam whispered to me, as I heard Dean approaching the door.

“Me,” I whispered back.

Dean came in, noting that I was sitting on Sam’s lap. It occurred to me that he might have thought I wanted to break up the arrangement with Sam, and this was evidence to the contrary.

“Hey Dean, we uh, have some news... I'm pregnant.”

He froze for half a second.

“Congratulations,” he said, a bit gruffly. Emotional moments were never his strong point. His eyes flicked to Sam and it looked like there was some unspoken conversation there, “I'll get the car ready. Is there anything you need from your car?” he asked me.

“Wait, what?” I asked, looking between the two of them. “Where are we going?”

“Bobby’s,” they both said, not quite simultaneously but close to it.

“Why would we need to go there?”

“He's got a demon-proof panic room,” Dean replied.

“What?! I'm not hiding in a demon-proof panic room for 9 months!”

Sam tried to rub my back reassuringly. “You don't need to be there all the time.”

“Oh, what, but sometimes you're going to phone and I'm going to be a good little girl and go sit in my box?” I spat at him.

“Lucifer is after Sam,” Dean said, locking eyes with me. “He has already tried to torture me to force Sam to say yes to him. What do you think he's going to do when he finds out that not only does Sam have a girl, but she's pregnant with his child?”

“This is ridiculous, I have looked after myself fine up until now and I will continue to do so! What about my job?”

“You're not hunting,” Dean said with finality, as though it was his decision.

“The hell I'm not!”

“Y/n,” Sam said more gently, and I turned my attention to him. “What's going to happen when a demon throws you against a wall? Or you get kicked or stabbed?” His hand moved over my belly. “I don't want to risk either of you,” he said lovingly, looking at me with his puppy dog eyes.

I sighed. “Fine, we can go to Bobby's. But I'm still not living in a panic room.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, kissing my forehead.

“And I'm taking my car.”

“No,” Dean interjected. “I'm driving.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed again.

---

It would apparently take us more than a week to get to Bobby's. I refused to let Dean and Sam drive all day and all night, taking turns to sleep in the backseat. I’d had to refuse to get back in the car after a toilet break before they would agree to stopping overnight, but I'd won that argument.

I'd lost the argument about being left alone or doing anything by myself. I wasn't even allowed to go for walk. Both Winchesters seemed to have turned their protective streak as high as it could go, not letting me out of their sight.

The first night, Sam had gone to get dinner and returned with a bag full of pregnancy multivitamins, ginger tablets for morning sickness and skin moisturiser. He shrugged at me, “It's what the lady in the pharmacy said a pregnant woman would want.”

It was now day 3. We pulled into another random town, got a room at the motel. I begged them to let us go out for dinner, sick of just seeing the car and motel rooms. “I'm pregnant, I'm not made of porcelain!” I yelled.

Sam shrugged at Dean, and Dean reluctantly sighed and agreed. These boys were ridiculous.

We headed to the local pub, getting burgers, beers and my lemon, lime and bitters. It was nice to be out, seeing people and sitting at an actual table instead of eating take-away sitting on a motel bed or in the car. The boys were both tense and on alert, but at least I could also get them to crack a smile.

---

I woke the next morning and couldn't feel Sam in the bed. I opened my eyes, surprised to find Sam and Dean hunched over a laptop at the little table in the corner, whispering to each other.

“What's going on?” I asked, worried.

“Looks like demon activity in this town,” Sam answered.

“Why are we still here?”

“We don't know if they've seen us. And we are still hunters...” He glanced at Dean, it seemed like there had been some disagreement on this point before I woke up.

“I'm going to do some recon,” Dean said, standing up.

“Give me a minute and I'll be ready to come,” I said, pulling back the covers.

“No!” Both Winchesters exclaimed, simultaneously.

“Seriously?!” It was like being a child, first they wouldn't let me go anywhere without one of them and now they wouldn't even let me do that.

“It’s not safe,” Sam said with his big doe eyes.

“Fine,” I huffed.

Dean left.

---

Dean brought some dinner home with him. It had been a boring and tense day, unable to leave the room and with Sam clearly on edge. Not exactly the ‘spend a day in a motel room alone with your boyfriend’ scenario that magazines would talk about.

I went to the bathroom and came back to Dean and Sam speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the room.

“Am I cramping your style?” I asked, frustrated at being excluded.

“There's just a lot going on,” Sam said apologetically to me, before turning back to his brother and seeming to continue their conversation through the medium of significant looks alone.

“I need to go stake out the building they're in,” Dean said to me, moving towards the door.

“No, you need to sleep,” Sam said. “I'll stake it out.”

“I'm fine, Sammy.”

“You’ve been out all day, you'll stay there all night, and you'll still insist on driving tomorrow morning. I'll go and I can sleep in the car while you're lead footing us out of here once we're happy it's safe.”

Sam and Dean glared at each other until Dean finally conceded. Sam gave me a kiss goodbye before heading off.

---

I woke up to a hand over my mouth in the dark of the room. I started to struggle before my brain interpreted my vision enough to realise it was Dean. He held his other index finger up to his lip, a clear ‘stay quiet’ signal. I nodded and he took his hand away from my mouth.

“Power’s been cut,” he whispered in to my ear. “Take these,” he handed me a large container of salt, a gun, and my phone, “and barricade yourself into the bathroom. Message Sam.”

He pulled the covers back off me and guided me to my feet, marching me to the bathroom with his hand around my upper arm. “Do not open this door for any reason,” he continued, still whispering.

“Dean-“ I started to reply.

“I don't care if you think I'm dead, you do not open this door,” he hissed. “You understand?”

I reluctantly nodded and he carefully shut the door, avoiding making any noise. I quickly poured the salt out in a line behind the door and on the small windowsill. Then I pulled my phone out and texted Sam.

📱Power cut. Dean worried. Are you ok? What's happening with the demons?

I heard the motel room door bang open. I quickly typed

📱Someone’s here

I could hear a scuffle going on, but couldn't make out what they were saying to each other. The wall shook and I heard loud crashes. I hoped it wasn't Dean being thrown around like a ragdoll.

I nearly opened the door to help him dozens of times, but I stopped myself. He had been very, very insistent that I not do it, and I remembered Sam’s fear about me being injured and losing the baby. I clutched the gun and gritted my teeth to the sounds.

Sometimes there were pauses. Then there was a long silence, which was somehow worse than the fight sounds. What if they'd killed Dean? Did they know I was here?

After what felt like an eternity, there were more crashes and bangs. And then silence again.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when there was knocking on the bathroom door. Real professional, I thought at myself angrily.

“Don't shoot,” I heard Sam say as he opened the heavy door. “Are you ok?” he asked me.

“I'm fine,” I said, crashing into him for a hug. He led me out of the bathroom and I saw Dean, sitting slumped against a wall, blood running down his face.

“Dean!” I exclaimed, running to him. “What happened?”

“3 demons,” Sam said, getting down to help Dean up. “He got 1 of them but the other two had nearly killed him when I got here, but I was able to surprise them and we finished them both off.” Sam took Dean to his bed and sat him down.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry Dean, I could have helped!” I gushed, feeling incredibly guilty.

“No,” he said sharply, although clearly exhausted. “I'll be fine.”

“Get your things,” Sam said to me. “I'm going to clean Dean's wounds and then we're going.”

We got Dean into the backseat of the Impala to rest, and Sam jumped into the driver's seat. “You know, I can drive,” I said to him.

He smiled at me, although it didn't reach his eyes. “Maybe later, I'm not sure how much avoiding demons we’re going to need to do.”

---

We drove almost non-stop for 3 more days, rotating through drivers. Dean even let me drive his precious car, but only on the highway in daylight.

We made it to Bobby's in one piece. I was not expecting Bobby to be an older guy in a wheelchair, how do you even survive to be an older hunter?

Sam showed me the panic room. He seemed like he was worried I was going to blow up in his face.

“Do you think this is necessary?” I asked him.

“I'm worried about you, Y/n,” he said, hands holding my waist. “And Dean's not wrong, they will come after you and try to use you against me.”

“Why does Lucifer want you so badly?”

He hesitated.

“Seriously, I'm pregnant with your baby and I can't know?!” I pushed Sam’s hands off me, a week's worth of frustration of being babysat and kept in the dark spilling out of me.

“I just- it's not something I tell people. I'm sorry.”

“Does Bobby know?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Fuck this!” I yelled, marching past him to the open door.

He caught my arm and tugged on it for me to look at him. I was about to give him more of a piece of my mind, when he opened his mouth.

“I'm Lucifer’s vessel.”

“You're what?” I exclaimed, confused.

“His vessel. His meatsuit. He wants to possess me.”

“Oh.” I took a moment to reflect. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Now what?”

He put his hands on my waist again and I didn't stop him. “Tomorrow, Dean and I are continuing our journey to stop him.”

“You're leaving? So soon?”

“I'm sorry,” he said, puppy dog eyes on full.

“Are you going to be ok?”

“I don't know."

I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck and he pulled me into a hug. I cried against his chest.

“What- what about me and the baby?”

“Bobby will look after you.”

“And what if they find us?”

There was a long pause. “I don't know,” he admitted again quietly. I felt his tears fall on to my face, mixing with my own.

The next day he left.

#sam winchester #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #pregnant reader #sam angst

[my-proof-is-you]

You’re On Your Own, Kid - Pt. 1

Inspired by a line of the song You’re On Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift that I feel fits the hunter lifestyle: 

You’re on your own, kid

You always have been

Summary: You’re used to being on your own. You’d been on your own as long as you could remember. Could Sam show you that it isn’t the only way to live?

Sam x Reader

Masterlist

You

Your eyelids fluttered, the throbbing in your head keeping you from opening them all the way. 

The last thing you remembered was the door to the warehouse banging open loudly behind you. You had turned to see two very tall men bursting in with their machetes raised before everything went black. 

When your eyes finally adjusted to the light, you looked around to try to figure out where you were. You were no longer in the warehouse with six vampires, which was at least a good thing. As far as you could tell, you weren’t dead, either. Even better.

Along with your throbbing head, you could feel a stinging sensation at your neck. Your body felt weak and your limbs felt heavy. It was like you’d been hit by a truck. You tried to sit up but immediately fell back as your head began to swim. 

“Whoa, hey, slow down,” a voice said from a few feet away. You turned your head to see the taller of the two men that ruined your hunt walking into the room you were in, which seemed to be a bedroom. Your hackles raised immediately. You wished more than ever you were still armed, but knew you didn’t have any of your weapons on you. 

“Where the fuck am I?” you asked, your voice harsh. 

Your view of the man sharpened as he got closer, helping you make out more of his features. Besides being very tall, you noticed that he had long, shiny, chesnut hair; soft hazel eyes; and a chiseled jaw. You would have found him attractive if you weren’t currently scared he was going to murder you and drink your blood.

His hands raised in front of him in an attempt to calm you. It was a nice gesture, considering you couldn’t have fought him if you tried.

“I’m Sam,” he said, sitting in a wooden chair next to the bed you were in. “My brother and I were hunting the same vampire nest as you.”

You rolled your eyes, swearing to yourself when it made your head pound even harder. “So you are the ones who nearly got me killed?” you asked, annoyed.

“Yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “sorry about that. We had no idea you were already in there, otherwise we would not have barged in the way we did.”

You sighed. “So what actually happened? It’s a little fuzzy.”

“Well when we–unfortunately–distracted you, the vampire right behind you hit you over the head, knocking you unconscious. We had to start fighting the other five, and while we were doing that he started to drain you. Thankfully, we got to you before he finished the job. Not before you lost a good amount of blood, though.”

“I had it under control,” you said, not sure if it was entirely true. Sure, they distracted you and you got attacked, but taking on six vamps at once was something you’d never done before. 

“Sure, sweetheart,” you heard someone sarcastically say from the other side of the room. The other hunter was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed. He was slightly shorter than Sam, and had shorter, dirty blonde hair and green eyes.

Sam looked like he had to actively keep his eyes from rolling. “This is my brother, Dean,” he said flatly. 

“Well, Dean,” you started, getting more frustrated by the second, “I did have it under control. I’d been tracking that nest for weeks, so forgive me for not thanking you for the save. Especially since I wouldn’t have needed it without you,” you spat. 

Dean huffed, turning and leaving the room. Sam gave you a half smile, apparently not put off by your attitude. 

“Hey, I get it. We stepped on your toes. I’m sorry about that–” he paused, realizing he didn’t know your name. 

“Y/N,” you said cautiously. 

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes changing somehow. They became even softer, if that was possible. It brought your guard down the tiniest fraction, which you hated. 

“You never answered my question,” you said quietly but still in a harsh voice.

He shook his head a little, seemingly to clear it. “Sorry. You’re at our bunker–er–home…which happens to be a bunker.”

You tried to make sense of his words but came up short. You just didn’t have the energy yet. Sam seemed to put the pieces together, quickly handing you a sports drink. 

“Here. You need to replenish. You lost a lot of blood.”

You looked at it with suspicion before taking it, glad to see the seal on the cap was still intact. One could never be to careful with strangers. You weren’t exactly a trusting person, anyway.

“Thanks,” you said after drinking nearly half of the bottle. “I’ll finish this and be out of your hair.” You sat up slowly this time, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to get your bearings. 

“Listen, Y/N, I know we aren’t currently your favorite people, but there’s no need to rush. It might take a few days for you to feel one-hundred-percent, trust me,” he said, that same puppy-dog look on his face.

You narrowed your eyes, curious. You had no doubt that he was speaking from experience. It was just another perk of being a hunter: life-threatening situations.

“I appreciate it, Sam, but I really prefer to be on my own,” you said, attempting to stand. You swayed immediately, and you were sure you would have ended up falling on your face if it weren’t for his quick reflexes. 

“You can go back to being on your own when you’re healed,” he said forcefully, his hard arms hooked under yours. He sat you back down on the bed and you huffed. 

“Fine. Two days and I’m out of here,” you said grumpily. Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. You got the impression he’d dealt with attitude like yours before. 

“I’ll bring you some food in a few minutes. Just try to relax, okay?” He left the room and you felt a half-smile on your face before quickly pursing your lips, slamming your walls back up before they had a chance to crack.

Sam

“Dude, what are you doing?” 

Sam sighed. “What does it look like?” He poured the steaming chicken noodle soup from the pot into a bowl. 

“It looks like you’re giving our food to some chick who doesn’t want our help,” Dean said, gesturing to the soup from his spot near the refrigerator. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna let her starve here the next two days. I’m going to offer her food. If she doesn’t want it, fine. But I’m at least going to try.”

Dean rubbed a hand down his face. “Sam, why do you even care? I know you’re a softie, but this girl has made it pretty clear she thinks we’re just getting in her way.”

Sam wasn’t sure why he cared. He told himself it was because you were wounded and therefore probably more grumpy than you would have been normally, and that he should give you more of a chance because of that. 

“Dean, you are a pain in the ass sometimes, too. Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be taken care of.”

“Whatever you say, Sammy.” He left the kitchen, chuckling to himself about something. Sam ignored him and finished getting your soup, placing a spoon in it and grabbing a napkin before heading to your room.

“Soup’s on,” he said, pushing open your door. You gave him a glare that said you did not appreciate his pun. He didn’t care, though. At least you weren’t actively trying to leave.

He placed the tray on your lap and you eyed it warily, just like you had the sports drink he’d given you before. 

“Y/N, if I’d wanted to kill you, don’t you think I’d come up with a better way than poisoning your soup?” Sam asked, one eyebrow raised.

You huffed. “I guess,” you said. “Thanks,” you mumbled, picking up your spoon.

Sam smiled, glad to hear the pleasantry even if it was reluctant. He took a seat on the wooden chair next to your bed, ignoring your furrowed brow and slight lean away from him. 

“So, where’re you from? What got you into hunting?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes but took a sip of your soup. He could see you visibly relax a little as the warm liquid hit your stomach. “Like I’m gonna tell you anything personal about me,” you said dryly. “I don’t need some demon after me when it tortures you for information about other hunters.”

Sam exhaled a laugh. “Wow. You have trust issues. Anyone ever told you that?”

“It’s how I’ve survived this long,” you replied. “Not sure how you have.”

“So you’ve been hunting a long time, then?” Sam asked, smirking that he’d figured out the littlest bit of information.

“God,” you said, exasperated. “If I tell you one thing about myself, will that get you off my back and out of this room?” 

Sam chuckled lightly. “For now.”

You sighed. “I started hunting when I was fourteen, okay?” You looked down at your soup, which Sam noted with satisfaction was now half-gone.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely. He got up, not wanting you to have to ask him to leave. “I’ll come get your dishes later. Just holler if you need anything.”

He left your room, closing the door behind him. You weren’t exactly friendly to him, but he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he walked away from your conversation.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14 @divadinag@lynne1993@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​@onethirstyunicorn@sammykb1994@lilulo-12@mellorine-paprika@tranquility-or-chaos@collette04@hoboal87@chevyharvelle@miraclesoflove@defenderrosetyler@babypink224221@calaofnoldor@beatifuldisaster018@satans-0-spawn @coffeebooksandfandom@supernatural3002@lainxcas@mylovelydame21@mrsdeanfuckingwinchester@lovely-lynns-likes@ppeachygemss@screechingartisancashbailiff@metalfangirl@vicmc624@polina-93@hobby27

@sexyvixen7@unnuevosoltransformalarealidad@lyarr24@amelia-song-pond@flashxspn@donnaintx@spnbaby-67@traceyaudette@gh0stgurl@fiftyshadesgrl@tapedeck-hearts@lacilou@foxyjwls007

#supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #spn fanfic #sam x you #sam winchester/reader #sam/you #sam x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester/you #sam winchester #sam angst #angst #supernatural fandom #supernatural family #supernatural imagine

[miss-madness67]

Amnesia (Sam Winchester)

Supernatural one-shot

You really don't recognize the tall man that claims to be your boyfriend.

The first thing that you notice is the distinctive hygienic smell. You don't have enough strength in your eyelids to open and look around you. Your body feels as if you were hit by a truck, and there is a constant beeping to your left. The pain in your head escalates each second that goes by. It's until what feels like a few minutes later, that you manage to gain enough stability to open your eyes. The discomfort is still present, but is now overpowered by the curiosity about your situation. Strangely enough, in those first moments, you don't feel panic over the fact that you don't know where you are. It's as if your body feels safe.

The room where you are is impeccable in all of its pulchritude appearance. There are white walls and polished linoleum floors. The bed where you're lying is in the very center of the room, and there's a TV hanging in one of the corners. The light is off and by the look of the window, it's nighttime. It doesn't take you long for you to realize that you are not alone. In one of the chairs nearest to your bed, there's a man sleeping soundly. One of his arms is stretched toward your bedside as if trying to reach you. Your heart skips a beat when you clearly don’t recognize the person next to you. In your current state of mind, you briefly wonder if he's a doctor or a nurse of some sort, why else would he be here? You clearly don't know him. Nevertheless, you know that this isn't true because he's not dressed to be working in a hospital. Then, when you acknowledge that you cannot pinpoint who this man is, your heart starts beating faster in the monitor.

This immediate speed-up of the sound causes the man to jolt awake. At first, he doesn't seem to register anything. He is still too sleepy to consider the shift in the atmosphere. It is until his eyes land on you, that he truly realizes the situation. In the next second, he's wide awake. You see his mouth open and moving as he talks to you, yet, the words don't seem to be registering in your brain. The high-pitched sound of your ears -probably from the panic- prevents you from hearing anything. For some reason, you see something akin to confusion and fear in his gaze. You're not in the right state of mind to question anything beyond the panic settling in your bones. You've got no idea what's happening, and when you try to remember something beyond this point in your life, you cannot. It's as if your memories have completely vanished, and the only thing you know for sure is the now. You scream at your brain, begging to remember your name, but you come up empty. It's truly frightening.

The increase in your heartbeat not only attracts the attention of the man, but also of the nurses nearby. They rush into the room and onto your bed. You see them say some words to the brunette, but he doesn't seem to listen, and it takes a tall nurse to pry him away from your side. You don't realize you've been hyperventilating until you see a syringe in your field of vision, and your breaths increase in speed. You're having a panic attack, your mind supplies. Funny that’s the only good thing it can provide, because when you ask yourself about, well, yourself, you come empty-handed. One of the ladies pinch you and, as soon as the liquid is in your body, you start to feel calmer. However, with this new peace of mind also comes an incredible amount of sleepiness that threatens to take you into the grasp of slumber. Five more seconds pass by, and you succumb to the temptation.

The next time you wake up, you are alone in the room. There's no trace of the man from earlier or from any nurse, you prefer it that way. Nevertheless, once again, you find emptiness in your memories when you try to conjure your own name. This time, instead of panicking, you force yourself to be logical and seek all the possibilities behind the predicament. You clearly have been in an accident, if the ache in your body proves to be true. Furthermore, you probably know the man from earlier, even if you can't pinpoint what he is to you. The sane thing to do is to ask guidance from a professional. So, that is precisely your next course of action when you push the nurse calling button. And the help doesn't take long to arrive.

“I see you’re awake again,” the tall nurse greets, “how are you feeling this time?”

Whilst he checks your vitals, you manage to find your voice to answer. “Like I was run over by a bus.” Your own voice feels odd in your ears, but something deep inside tells you that it is, in fact, yours. The nurse chuckles at your lame joke.

“Well, we’re trying to lay you off the morphine little by little, and we had to put in a sedative when you woke up in the early morning.” He gives you a meaningful look, “it scared your boyfriend pretty badly.”

You furrow your brows, “boyfriend?”

“Yes, the man that was…” There must be something in your eyes that makes him stop suddenly. “Honey, how much do you remember about your accident?”

You’re afraid to answer, but you know this was bound to happen. “I don’t remember anything.”

“You don’t remember anything about the accident?”

“No,” you clarify, “I don’t remember anything about me.”

...

What follows is a lot of different tests given by your doctors. In the end, they come to the conclusion that you already know: you have amnesia. They believe it's only temporary, and you honestly hope that they are right because living with this emptiness feels too much. They try to reassure you that everything is going to be all right as long as the people close to you help you remember the little things about yourself. However, you don't question them about who exactly are the people close to you. Besides the man that you saw earlier, no one has come to see you since you woke up for the second time. What if you are all by yourself? Nevertheless, the thought doesn't linger too much because, not even an hour later, someone comes to your side. It’s not the man from earlier, but this new one seems to have some similarities with the other one. He is almost as tall, he has light-colored hair, and green eyes. You see him approach your room through the window, and the smile he sends your way lets know you are his destination. Before he can step foot inside, though, one of your doctors goes quickly to talk to him. You cannot hear the words they're saying, but if the worry settling in the face of the stranger is any clue, you have a pretty good idea about the content of the talk.

He enters the room shortly after, looking relatively wary, the doctor doesn’t follow. When he speaks, there’s hesitancy in his voice. “Hey,” his greeting is followed by a name that you assume is yours.

“Hi…?” You try to search your memories for recognition, but if you can’t remember your own face, how are you going to recall his?

He clears his throat, then sits in the chair beside your bed. “Right, yeah, I’m Dean.”

You smile at him, “hi Dean.” Despite the fact that you don’t remember him, there’s something within you that tells you that you know him and trust him.

Dean tries to mirror your smile but fails, “you- you really don’t remember anything?”

Your brave facade crumbles slightly, “I’m sorry, no, do you know what happened to me?”

He grumbles under his breath, muttering something that sounds a lot like witches. Before you can question him on it, though, there’s a commotion in the hallway. A tall man -the one that was with you during the night- passes by a very panicked, petite nurse without even trying to hear what she’s attempting to say. He opens the door looking very relieved to see you and then exhales your name in a tender tone.

“... baby, how are you feeling?” His big steps take him immediately to your bed. Dean stands up abruptly and tries to intercept his approach, unsuccessfully.

When you speak, you can see your words piercing through his heart, “who are you?”

Taglist: @sweetwerewolfqueen @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @hobby27

#sam winchester angst #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fic #spn #dean winchester #amnesia #sam angst

[supernaturalfreewill]

It had been years since you’d seen him, since you’d been able to study the myriad of hues in his eyes. You pressed the pads of your fingers nervously around the warmth of the ceramic mug in front of you. At that moment, Sam was studying the thick frays of your eyelashes and his heart started beating faster. 

“Pretty wild running into you here,” he finally said. Your eyes flitted up to meet his again. 

You nodded, your face still somewhat unreadable. “Yeah.” You studied him for a long moment and Sam wished he could read what was going on in your head. “You’ve changed,” you observed. “And so have I.”

Sam nodded, his nerves growing. What exactly did you mean by that? Changed in a good way or— “That’s inevitable though, right? I mean, we’re all changing all the time.”

You nodded your agreement again. “And it’s been, what? Three years?”

“Three years, four months and... 16 days...” Sam laughed awkwardly as he realized what he’d just revealed—that he counted every day of your absence. “But who’s counting, right?” he laughed awkwardly. 

But your lips finally curved into a smile and a warmth seemed to come into your eyes and finally he was able to relax slightly, though you were as distracting as you’d ever been, and fluttering rose in his stomach. “You apparently,” you observed. You cleared your throat. “I missed you too. A lot.”

Sam looked surprised. “After what happened, I—I didn’t know if you hated me or—”

Your brow furrowed. “Sam,” you said, shaking your head. Electricity ran through him at the sound of his name leaving your lips after so long. “I could never, ever hate you.”

A tight lump formed in his throat. “We’re staying just down the street. Maybe if you’re not busy later, you can come by... Dean and Cas would love to see you too.”

“Just Dean and Cas?” you asked, a spark in your eyes and a smirk tugging at his heartstrings.

Sam laughed and it warmed you through and through. “Me most of all,” he said.

“Consider me there, then.”

Prompt: “You’ve changed and so have I.”

#sam winchester #sam x you #sam winchester x reader #spn imagines #sam angst #sam fluff #sam winchester drabbles

[the-gray-ghosty]

Sam trauma fics please!!! Anything with hallucifer/lucifer/demon blood just anything lmao

Thank you bestie<3

I am SO sorry this took so long bestie!! @ghost-go-roasty-mctoasty

I have SO many sam trauma fics bookmarked, so I'm going to rec specifically some of the hallucifer/lucifer/demon blood ones for you!

Through the Devil Softly by siamesedreams, hallucifer/implied/referenced noncon (no smut), gencest samdean, dean taking care of Sam as he suffers through anxiety attacks and ptsd from hallucinations in s7

Convalescence by impravidus, post!cage sam through the eyes of outsiders. Hallucifer and very protective dean

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand by ad_castra

"5 times dean comforts sam by holding his hand (and one time he doesnt). Sam detoxing from demon blood, hallucinations, trials of hell, this fic goes through different times of sam trauma and sam having mental health issues

Leaning out for love by angelshotgun

Sam's been detoxing for years, but his powers stayed. He hid them from dean for years, but when Sam is sick dean finds out.

Help is never far away by wolfcry22

Sam gets dosed with demon blood against his will and has to detox again, but he also has the flu. Protective dean and Bobby, and ofc sam angst and pain

Through the Devil Softly by siamesedreams

Hallucifer, where Sam can't tell whats real and what's not. Sam has panic attacks and ptsd, with protective Dean and WINCEST (but no sex, just cuddling and protectivness)

Catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra

Hallucifer/post cage sam and castiel, with enochian speaking sam and castiel, protective castiel and dean and unstable hurt sam

Trialculosis Sam by fogsrollingin

This is one of my favorite fanfictions of all time. The trials of hell are pretty much killing sam, and dean is trying his best (most of the time) to do his best to help sam. This has queerplatonic samdean, with hugging and comfort and lots of tears and hurt sam!

Buried at Sea by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod

With no leads on the darkness, sam and dean tour the queen Mary ship in long beach california. But when sam and dean are seperated, and a ghost locks sam inside an old cage elevator, post-cage hell trauma comes out. Poor sam! Lots of protective dean.

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty

Season 4, when Sam and dean sre separated after dean finds out about the demon blood, sam overdoses on his antidepressants. Suicidal!Sam calls dean, and dean comes to his aid. Protective dean and very protective bobby, and a little bit anti castiel at the begining (he's kind of a jerk, but he does care about sam in his own way).

Let me know if any of the links dont work!! :)

#again i am SO sorry this took so long #<3 #sam and dean #sam winchester #sam angst #sam and trauma #hallucifer #demon blood #spn #supernatural #samdean #dean winchester #demon blood addict

[ghost-go-roasty-mctoasty]

I cant stop thinking about the bmol experimenting with Sam and thanks to @trials-era-sam confirming our hc with Sam's addiction (thank you Jared!!) i just had to write this-

"Names Sam. All we need are names." Toni repeats, tapping her pen against her stupid little notebook.

Even if Sam wanted to, he can't give her want she wants. He doesn't really know that many hunters to begin with, let alone all the hunters in the whole of the united states. Who does she think he is?

She sighs dramatically and puts both her pen and book down on the old table next to her, uncrossing her legs and standing up, taking a few steps closer to Sam.

"Fine." She muttered, "we'll just move onto the next phase, since you're choosing to be difficult."

She starts fishing around in her blazer pocket, in search for something, and Sam can tell she found what she was looking for when a small smile pulls against her lips and she slowly withdraws her hand out, holding what looks to be a small vial?

Sam tilts his head to try and get a better look at it. Is it another drug to induce hallucinations? A truth serum? Who knows what they've invented over across the Atlantic.

Toni scoffs at the confusion displayed on Sam's face, and holds out the vial for him to see, holding it up triumphantly as if she won a race or something.

The first thing he notices is how red it is. He stares for a few more seconds until he realizes, and he can practically feel all the air leaving his lungs.

They've been keeping tabs on him for a good 12 years, they know pretty much everything about him. He doesn't know why this didn't occur to him sooner.

"No." He practically hisses at her, his mind flooding with the pain of detox already. Although he doubts he will ever make it out of here, and hes kind of already given up trying to escape. Whats the point? Dean is dead, Cas will be fine without him. Lucifer is out there roaming free, theres nothing for him anymore.

He's completely content with these british people keeping him here.

But eventually he'll have to detox, he always does.

He can feel his heart starting to pick up pace.

The first detox was bad enough, but he can start to feel the panic raising at the thought of having to live through that now, what horrors would haunt him in his...less than stable state.

He doesn't know what he'd do if he has to see Lucifer or the cage again.

What atrocities would his mind conjure up this time?

He finds his mind rushing back to all the less than pleasant experiences in his life. How it felt to have an archangel inside of him. He thinks that’s why he didn’t realize Gadreel was in him for so long. In comparison to the searing pain of the literal devil in his body, some run of the mill angel was like a tick. Hardly worth his attention.

Toni clearing her throat snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up at her again, and couldn't hide the fact that his hands were shaking.

"Sam," she began "you have made less than ideal choices in your life." A pointed glance towards him. "But, that doesn't mean you still can't be utilised. We as men of letters firmly believe in sufficiency, and your way of...terminating demons is much faster than any excorsim that we have on hand. Don't you think?"

Sam thinks that his heart is going to give out with how fast it is pumping. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. The year of shame and regret with Ruby and all his mistakes crashing down on him.

"Please." He pleads, looking up at this awful woman through his wet hair. "You don't know what you're doing." He tries to reason with her, but with that glint in her eye, he knows shes not listening to a word he's saying.

"Cmon now Sammy, you can't tell me that you don't miss it." She exclaims, a soft undertone to her voice, as if shes trying to be understanding towards him. Sam scoffs.

And hangs his head in defeat.

They've burnt him, shot him, cut him up and probably broken a few ribs if his pain is any indication. He has no doubt that they will hesitate to do this to him too.

Hes just glad Dean won't be here to watch him turn into a monster again.

Everything Dean told him during that year comes rushing back as he clamps his mouth shut tight. He knows that this will happen to him with or without his consent, but he won't let it happen without a fight.

After all, she isn't Lucifer, he doesn't have to lay down and let her do whatever she wants to him. Hes allowed to fight back. And for Deans sake, he will try.

Toni notices Sams jaw muscles working, and sighs like a disapproving mother whose toddler just won't listen to her.

She roughly grabs Sams face and lifts his head up, making him look up at her.

And although his face is rock hard with determination, pure fear is flashing in his eyes.

He doesn't want to go back to that. To that feeling of desperately needing more and more.

Hes fought so hard against his addiction for so long now. Why is this happening? Chuck must think his life is a joke to do this to him.

But, he keeps his mouth closed tight as Toni tuts and pinches his nose closed, staring down at him patiently.

He hopes he's strong enough to let himself pass out before his mouth inevitably opens to let in air. At least then he could say he tried. But he knows the human body, he knows that when survival insticts kick in, he won't be able to fight it.

But he closes his eyes and tries to stay calm as toni pinches his nose tighter and grows more annoyed.

He starts to count.

Hes gotten to fifty seconds when his lungs really start to hurt.

67. His head has started to spin.

89. His teeth hurt from how hard he's clenching them.

92. He can feel the presence of the vial hanging above him like a carrot on a string. Patiently waiting for his mouth to open like they both know it will.

107. There are spots dancing behind his eyelids. He knows his body will betray him soon.

He lets out a silent prayer at second 115. Begging for someone to help him.

He wonders if Lucifer can hear him.

121. He gasps.

Before he can even suck in some precious air, the vial is being shoved in his mouth, and the metallic taste of blood on his tounge is the only thing his senses can focus on.

Its okay. Dont panic. He just has to spit it out like he did before. No biggie.

He ignores the way his body yearns for it. To swallow it. He ignores how his muscles are remembering how powerful they used to feel. He ignores how his throat is trying to gulp it down, actively working against the only rational part of Sam's brain.

The smell is overwhelming. The taste practically irresistible.

He doesnt have to swallow it. He doesn't have to let her win. He doesn't.

He goes to spit it out. Toni sees. She acts quicker than Sam can even realise.

She's pinching his nose again and roughly keeping her other hand over his mouth. Making sure that he can't possibly spit it out and cutting off all access to air.

Meaning he'll need to swallow it to be able to gasp for air.

He looks up at her with tears in his eyes. His head starting to spin again from lack of oxygen. He shakes his head softly, once again begging her not to do this to him, even though he knows this grovelling will get him nowhere.

She looks down at him with no emotion in her eyes. Even the smile on her face has faded. She just seems a bit bothered now. As if Sams resistance is just a small inconvenience to her.

He'll have to swallow soon. She knows it. They both know it.

Eventually Sam finds his throat working against him and swallowing down the sweet sweet blood.

As it goes down, he gasps out and Toni removes her hand. A satisfied smile on her face.

Sam, on the other hand though, couldn't be more disgusted with himself.

He would start crying if there was any liquid left in his body. He can already feel it. Feel the power thruming through his veins. He can feel his body yearning for more already, protesting that it wasnt enough.

He starts to shake. Silently sob. He cannot believe that this is happening to him again. That he has to go through this again, and all for what? Because some british people want to study him to see how he works and then do who knows what with him?

He starts sweating. Even that tiny amount enough to bring back a pretty severe addiction.

Toni sits back down looking smug. "How do you feel, Sam?"

He glares at her, although how effective it is with his shaking chin and dried tear streaks on his cheeks, he doesn't know.

"Alright." Toni nods at him and starts to make her way back up the stairs.

Sam starts to freak out, but refuses to show it. Not at least until she leaves the basement.

Theyre leaving him here. For how long? Are they going to make him go through detox now? Study his symptoms? Wait for him to start begging them for some more? Maybe, if Sams lucky enough, it wont be that bad, since it was only one small vial.

But he can already feel it. The way his head feels like it's getting squashed between two rocks, the way his stomach is rolling like he's about to vomit, the way his limbs are shaking quite violently.

Sam is never lucky. And this is going to hit him hard.

He hopes it doesnt get so bad that he starts begging for more blood. He'd never forgive himself if he fell that far.

He wishes Dean were still alive.

#alrighty #so #this was fun! #i missed writing <3 #lemme know if you want a continuation when dean finds sam ill write it if this gets one like #sam winchester #supernatural #spn fic #spn ficlet #supernatural fic #calliope hit me #bmol #toni #sam angst #angst #its 2am i didnt proofread this sorry #demon blood addict sam #holy sjit i did not realise how long this was #damn

[fandom-hoarder]

Ruminating on @adihildilid 's leader Sam commentary again and thinking about Castiel's 'i know what it's like to lose your army'. The whole premise just an excuse for sastiel bonding about being pushed into leadership out of necessity, and failing. The way both heaven and the bunker are a mausoleum.

#sastiel thoughts #sam and cas #spn thoughts #leader!sam #sam angst #cas angst

[spnfanficpond]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer & Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Bobby Singer, Gabriel (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Suicidal Sam Winchester, Depressed Sam Winchester, Anxious Sam Winchester, Depression, Anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempts, Recovery, Panic Attacks, mild Self-harm, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Tries, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Parental Bobby Singer, Protective Bobby Singer, Family, Family Feels, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilty Sam Winchester, Guilty Dean Winchester, Guilty Castiel (Supernatural), Everyone tries, Everyone Feels Bad, Dean Winchester Loves Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Gabriel Watches Distantly, The Ultimate Helicopter Parent, Mental Health Issues, Mental Breakdown, Hiding Mental Illness, But Then Dean Finds Out, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Sam Winchester Whump, Real Depression, No Hollywood Crap, Kinda Dark, Not Really Dark Just Heavy, Intense, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Hugs, Castiel (Supernatural) Needs a Hug, Healthy Relationships Summary:

Sam has been struggling with depression since Stanford. Well, not really struggling. Excelling. He's been excelling at depression since Stanford, and it's only gotten worse since he started hunting again. Unfortunately, the relapses from John's death and Dean's trip to Hell were bad, but they had nothing on the downward spiral triggered by Sam starting the Apocalypse.

But Sam has never come clean before, and he isn't about to start. He's self-medicating, he's suppressing, and he's handling things in the Trademark Winchester Way. He can do this. He can totally do this.

Spoiler: No, he can't.

Admin Michelle here with another SPNFanFicPond Fic Highlight!

(Yes, that is the gratuitous shirtless gif intended to get your attention. Do you like it? I do!)

Before I go any further with this, I’m gonna say, right up front, HEED THE WARNINGS. Although the subject matter is handled awesomely, if anything in the warnings is a trigger for you, PLEASE protect yourself above reading something just because we say it’s awesome!

This fic was brought to us by @the-slythering-raven​, so if you like it, you can send them your thanks!!

The subject matter is a serious one, and it’s handled seriously. Sam’s depressed. More depressed than in canon, but it’s really not that far off from what we could imagine Sam dealing with in the early seasons. His family deals with it about well as you would expect in the beginning. You get an inside look at what Sam’s thinking vs. what Sam’s saying and doing and it’s SO REAL.

As it all just gets worse and worse, though, the story turns away from canon and does what the show could never do: it let the characters see what was wrong and work to fix it. And it’s so cathartic to read!! The entire second half brings back all the light that the first half takes away. 

It’s 42k thousand words, so it’s not short, but nothing shorter could do the subject justice. Give it a read and let us know what you think!

#spnfanficpond fic highlight #no pairing #michelle answers #sam winchester #series #angst fic #sam angst #san series #tw: anxiety #tw: mental illness #tw: panic attack #tw: suicide #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #spn fan fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fic rec #spn fic rec #supernatural fic rec

[blushingsastiel]

my obsession with sam winchester has never been stronger in my lifeee. i love it though. my beloved for reals. although,,, a lot of the time that i am on tumblr,,, i have tears in my eyes because all the sam posts are so sad JSFHJSHJ and heartbreaking. but i honestly would not have it any other way.

#supernatural #sam winchester #spn #dean winchester #castiel #sam angst #sigh my whole account is basically of him #but that is like completely fine with me

[rottencaniness]

this is what the drugs are for || see on my tiktok

#sam edits #sam winchester #demon blood sam #sam angst #🔪 folder

[imagineteamfreewill]

Undercover

Title: Undercover

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,139

Warnings: Guns, mentions getting arrested

Square Filled: Rival AU

Summary: Y/N runs into Sam on a hunt and it goes as well as she could expect.

A/N: This is a submission for the extended 2021-2022 SPN AU Bingo (@spnaubingo​). As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. Please let me know what you think! Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

You’d thought you’d been paranoid this morning when you passed the old bookstore on Maple Street and had to do a double take. Then, after you’d seen the ghost of his figure ducking into the local animal hospital just off Highway 30, you’d made a u-turn in an old bait shop’s gravel parking lot just so you could drive past and look for his car. It wasn’t until you’d crept your way into the old marina’s guard building that you realized that you had, in fact, found the same hunt as Sam Winchester.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered as you pulled yourself up onto the top of the upper cabinets. Once you were settled, you flicked off your flashlight and watched as Sam trekked back up the dock towards your hiding place, his own maglight in hand.

He was only a dozen feet away from the back door when he froze and carefully pulled out his gun. You tensed, watching in silence as he peered through the midnight fog that blanketed the lake and the surrounding area. You hadn’t spotted anything suspicious, and you’d been careful to cover up any trace of yourself, which meant that Sam’s sudden change in behavior could only be due to something more nefarious than yourself.

Slowly, Sam crept into the guardhouse, keeping his gun drawn. You held your breath.

“You’re out of your depth with this one,” he finally said, and suddenly his light shone directly in your eyes.

You huffed and held up your free hand to block the light, squinting at him in irritation. “And you’re still a jerk. Nice to see you too, Sam.”

“Get down from there and go home. I’ve already done all the research and I can easily handle this on my own.”

“Oh yeah?” You carefully lowered yourself down from the cabinets and pulled your own gun from the holster strapped to your thigh. You’d stopped tucking it into your jeans a long time ago, opting instead for a more practical option when the chances of running into someone were slim. “Then how come that David said there were no hunters in the area?”

Sam made a face. “Who the hell is David?”

Rolling your eyes, you stomped past him, fully ignoring the gun he kept trained on you. The security guard’s desk would only be unattended for another five minutes. You’d been in the middle of searching for the disc that contained the antiquated security system’s footage from the past two weeks when Sam had interrupted you.

"What are you doing?” he questioned, coming closer to watch over your shoulder.

“Your mom,” you snarked back. 

The disc was shoved in a drawer underneath a short stack of file folders and a notebook with yellowed pages. You pulled it out and turned your flashlight on to inspect the label on the front just to be sure you’d found the right thing, but Sam snatched it out of your hand before you could get a good look.

“Hey!” You grabbed at it, but he held it out of your reach as he read the front himself. “Sam Winchester, this is my hunt! I have been here for over a week now and if you don’t stop interfering, I will call the police on you!”

He only grinned and tucked the DVD into the inside pocket of his jacket. His gun had also been tucked away, leaving him with just the maglight in hand as he looked you over.

“We both know that never ends well. How many times have you tried that one? Three? Four?”

You kept your own gun out and narrowed your eyes at him. “Go. Home.”

“No.”

The sound of footsteps approaching the front doors made you both freeze, and you hurried to switch off your flashlights and escape. When the door swung open only a few moments later, you ducked behind the table. Sam was already crouching behind it and he pushed you into view as he crawled underneath the vinyl tablecloth to hide. Though the guard had yet to turn on the overhead lights, the smug look on Sam’s face was clear as he disappeared from your sight. 

Quickly, you unclipped your holster and shoved both it and your gun inside one of the lower cabinets. They weren’t hidden well, but you could only hope that no one would spot it before you could get back to retrieve them. You barely had time to shoot Sam a look of utter loathing before the lights came on and the guard spotted you.

“Hey, you can’t be in here,” he said, heading right for you. 

It took everything in you not to reveal Sam’s presence as the guard cuffed you and marched you over to his desk so he could phone the police. Logically, you knew that one hunter on the case was better than two of them locked up for trespassing, even if it was Sam Winchester. 

Three hours later, the officer who’d collected you from the marina and brought you down to the station stepped into the holding cell area and unlocked the door. You looked up, a little surprised that David had even answered the phone associated with your alias. He wasn’t always the most reliable backup.

“You’re free to go, ma’am. I’m so sorry for the mixup,” the officer said, giving you a tight smile.

You stood from the bench and stretched a little, popping your back as the man held the cell door open for you. He led you out into the main part of the station, but you slowed your pace as you neared his desk.

Sam sat opposite the officer’s chair, his hands cuffed to a metal loop on the desk in front of him. When he saw the officer had returned, he turned his head to meet your eyes, his expression unreadable.

“Can I ask if you were able to get ahold of my supervisor?” you asked, closing the distance between you and the two men.

The officer pulled your bag of personal items from the bottom drawer of the desk and started removing the items from the clear plastic. He checked each of them off on your intake form as he worked, not bothering to look up as he replied.

“No, but we found this man impersonating a federal agent and interrogating local employees. When we contacted the man he claimed to be his supervisor, we realized that you were the real deal and this guy’s the fake,” he explained.

Raising an eyebrow, you glanced over at Sam, who was slouching further and further in his chair as the officer spoke.

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

This time the man looked up at you. He held out your flashlight, badge, wallet, and phone, which you accepted gratefully. A quick glance at the screen told you that you had three missed calls and a voicemail from David, no doubt chewing you out for getting arrested.

“His “supervisor” wasn’t his supervisor at all. The guy does work for the Bureau, though, because he confirmed your role in the case.” He glanced back down at the forms, then slid the paper towards you and held out a pen. “That should be everything. You just need to sign at the bottom saying that we’ve returned all your personal items. I’m sure the Bureau will be happy to clear up any paperwork regarding tonight?”

You nodded and leaned forward to scribble your alias’ signature on the bottom line, ignoring Sam’s glare. As you signed, you tried not to let your immense satisfaction that Bobby had vouched for you and not Sam show.

“I’m glad we could clear all this up,” you said. “Although…” Sam tensed as you paused and finally looked back at him, then at the officer. “This man isn’t impersonating a federal agent.”

“That’s not what your higher-ups said,” replied the officer. He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding you with a suspicious expression. “Are you saying that he’s lying to me?”

Shaking your head, you tucked your badge and wallet back into the pockets of your jeans. “No, sir. I’m saying that he doesn’t know everything regarding this case. Like I told you when I first came in, I’ve been tracing a trail of murders across several states. The scope of this thing is huge and we’ve got hundreds of cases under investigation right now. This man is an undercover agent, one specifically chosen by me to help with my work, so I’m going to ask that you release him from custody. You’ve already risked blowing his cover by arresting him. I’m happy to take care of any paperwork on his behalf.”

After a few moments of consideration, the man sighed and shook his head, muttering to himself. He reached down into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a second bag. This one held more items than yours, including Sam’s gun and several knives he’d had hidden on his person that you hadn’t been able to see before. You made a mental note of each one as the officer pulled them from the bag and checked them off on the paperwork he’d clearly been in the middle of filling out when he’d gone to release you from the holding cell. You also noticed that the disc with the security footage wasn’t among the items in the bag, which meant you’d have to ask Sam to give it back to you. Irritation grew in the center of your chest and you cleared your throat, pressing your lips together to keep yourself from saying something that would blow your cover.

While he worked, Sam stared at you in silence. You could feel his gaze focused on you as you supervised the officer going through Sam’s belongings, and he continued to stare at you while you filled out the papers regarding his release. Finally, the officer went around the desk and uncuffed him, then handed him the pen to sign off that he’d received all his personal items.

You stood beside Sam in silence as he collected his things, then stayed by his side as the two of you walked through the station and out into the parking lot. Your motel was only a few blocks down the street, and you had no doubt that Sam was most likely staying there too.

“Why did you do that?” he finally asked as you turned out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“Do you want me to go back and tell him I was lying?” you asked, not looking over at him. “Because then we’ll both be in even more trouble, and I don’t really want that.”

Sam sighed. “Y/N—”

“Don’t. Just go home and let me do my job.”

“This is my job too, you know.”

This time you did look over at him, but only for a second. “I didn’t get you out of there so you could help me, Sam. I got you out because I’m sure there are other people who need help. I’ve got this covered, and if you had only listened to me in the first place—”

“I was here first, so if anyone’s leaving, it should be—”

“Will you just stop?” you shouted. You stopped and turned to face him. He seemed startled by your outburst, but you didn’t let his unusual show of surprise faze you. “It’s very clear that neither one of us likes the other, and it’s even more clear that we can’t work together. I did you a huge favor sticking my neck out back there for you.” You pointed back down the street towards the station. “So for once in your life, can you just let someone else be in charge? Just give me the disc, go home, stay out of my life! Can you handle that, Sam? Or is that too hard for you?”

He stared at you, lips pressed together, and you crossed your arms over your chest. When he didn’t reply after a moment more, you turned and started walking again, leaving him standing with his back to the street. 

“Fine,” Sam said, calling out to you as you kept walking. “But next time, don’t expect me to help you.”

You scoffed but you didn’t say anything. You knew that deep down Sam had to be a good person—bad people didn’t willingly sacrifice everything good in life—but something about him made you want to bang your head against the wall. There are many things that you wanted in life as a hunter, but getting away from him was at the top of the list. If letting him think that he had the upper hand here would get him to leave, then you’d let the argument fade. There were more important things to worry about.

Thank you for reading! <3

If you liked this story, please reblog! That is the best way to share your love for my work and to spread it so that other people can enjoy this story. If you would like to support me further, please consider supporting my writing by donating on Ko-fi, supporting me on Patreon, or commissioning a story of your own!

@mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @alexwinchester23​​ @shaelyn102​​ @lyarr24​ @supermoonpanda​​ @ultimatecin73​​ @musiclovinchic93​​ @shamelesslydean​​ @mlovesstories​​ @ellie-andthemachine​​ @fandomoniumflurry​​

#spnaubingo #sam #sam winchester #reader x sam #sam x reader #reader x sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam fic #sam fanfic #sam fanfiction #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst #sam fluff #sam angst #sam winchester reader insert #supernatural reader insert #imagineteamfreewill #spn #supernatural #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #jellyfish fic

[my-proof-is-you]

You’re On Your Own, Kid Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

#supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester x you #sam x you #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester/reader #sam winchester/you #supernatural fluff #fluff #sam angst #angst #spn angst #SPN series

[cutelittleslasherlover]

“No, Sarah, you don’t understand. The pain that I went through....I can’t go through it again. I can’t.” ~Sam

#tagged #sam winchester #supernatural #spn season 1 #spn s2 #spn s8 #spn s9 #spn s7 #spn s10 #sam angst #dean winchester #charlie bradbury #bobby singer #deaths #I’m sorry this is not a happy Sam post #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #gifs #spn gifs #gifset #my gifs

[hoper-n-dreamer]

Random rants , angst trope.

Do you also love angst fanfics, because I remember liking the stories in which the "reader" gets hurt in any scenario and the comfort character is holding the reader gently, and crying for the "reader" and saying how much they mean to them. It might be obvious for many but for a long time I didn't think about it , but now I realise that it might be the favourite trope of some people because it's a way of knowing that you are worth saving, and you mean something to your favourite comfort character. And this validation is needed because in real life many people might have either taken you for granted or you just might have little self esteem due to the situations in your life. I think this feeling stems from the need of being loved by the people you love, you being there for them and vice a versa. I mean writing it now it sounds kind of obvious but sometimes we seem to ignore the cause of certain preferences. And people think that they can only know how much they are valued , when put in certain extreme situations like life and death, or physical hurt , it's almost like you can't be sure if someone really cares about you until you are put in a situation that puts the other party in a scary situation where they might lose you.

Maybe I used to read too much supernatural , Marvel and doctor who fanfics.

#dean winchester #sam winchester #spn fanfic #supernatural #doctor who #random rants #random rambles #random #supernatural angst #dean angst #sam angst #eleventh doctor #tenth doctor #twelfth doctor #ninth doctor #thirteenth doctor #doctor who angst #bucky barnes angst #avengers angst #steve rogers angst #wanda angst #natasha romanoff #loki angst